Redemption
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Leslie and an old nemesis take the first steps toward amity.  Follows 'Michiko's Nostalgia Trip'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Finally made it back with a brand-new story. As of June 26, 2011, I have a "fan page" on Facebook under my real name, which when complete will contain links to all my FF and FictionPress stories and then receive links to new stories as they are posted. This is a possible first step toward actual publication of original material, depending on what sort of feedback (if any) I may get from this endeavor._

_The next one will probably be a very long tale indeed, consisting of the novelization of an episode and then an original "sequel" to it. The idea originated with PDXWiz and I thought it would be time to explore it. In the meantime, enjoy this new story. Happy summer!_

* * *

><p>§ § § - May 4, 2007 – Maunawili, Hawaii<p>

It was a warm, misty morning, with a wet fog settling over a long one-story house with an open, wraparound deck and a cedar-shake roof. The sun had yet to peek over the horizon when lights popped on in several windows on the right-hand end of the house. Voices escaped through the open windows—the morning ritual of waking kids for school and the answering groans and complaints. From the smallest window came the _swoosh_ of a shower starting up; from another could be heard the cacophony of boys arguing. The ten-year-old golden retriever lying under the second window barely twitched in its sleep.

A sharp masculine voice abruptly cut the argument, and an unaccustomed silence held sway. The dog lifted its head, as surprised as the boys inside the window beneath which he lay. He scrambled to his feet and launched himself up onto his hind legs, peering into the brightly lit bedroom, where three young boys sat up, two in bunks and the third in a narrow twin bed, staring at the balding, paunchy man standing in the doorway. "Hi, Dad," the oldest boy ventured.

The youngest was too astonished to be tactful. "Gee, what're you doin' here? Mom's always the one that tells us to stop fightin'."

Their father glared at him. "Mom's in the shower. She can't be everywhere at once. Knock off this crap and start getting ready for school, all three of you. It's too early in the morning for this." He stifled a yawn, scratched his stomach and turned to leave.

"I'm not in school yet," the youngest boy said.

His father halted and aimed another glare at him, this one fiery enough to make the boy shrink wide-eyed back toward the wall. "Don't give me any lip," he ordered. "Do what you're told, and no backtalk." With that, he departed.

Liam Tokita, nearly nine, peered at his brothers, who blinked back at him, rubbing sleep from their eyes. "Dad's mad about something," he said.

"How d'you know?" challenged his brother Cody, going on seven.

Zachary Tokita, just turned five, reached up with both hands and flattened his palms against the mattress above him in a practiced motion, pushing hard enough to elicit a growl of protest from his brother. "Didn't you see him lookin' at me? He wanted to spank me."

"You quit pushin' my bed, or _I'm_ gonna spank you," Cody threatened. This met with merely a snort from Zachary, but Cody had already turned his attention to Liam. "Dad never gets up that early. And he never lets Mom have the shower first."

"That's right," said Liam.

"How come?" Zachary asked, swinging his feet off the mattress.

" 'Cause he's gotta go to work, and that's in Honolulu, and he's gotta cross the hills to get there, and there's always lots of traffic, so he hasta leave early." Liam raised one elbow and scratched his armpit, gazing at the doorway from which his father had disappeared. "Hey, y'know what, I just thought of somethin'. Dad shoulda left already by now."

Cody considered this, then nodded as though in discovery. "Yeah…he's always gone when Mom comes and wakes us up for school. So how come he's still here?"

Their older half-brother Aaron Crocker, fifteen, was headed down the hall, having come up from the basement bedroom he shared with fourteen-year-old Ephraim so he could get his own shower. He stopped in front of their doorway when he overheard Cody's question. "How come who's still here?"

The boys idolized their brother; he was the product of their mother's first marriage, a tall, too-slender boy with a mop of straight hair the color of the cedar shingles on the roof and an even, pleasant disposition that allowed him to get along with everyone, even the ill-tempered and irritating Ephraim. "Hey, Aaron, c'mere," Liam insisted, patting a spot on the mattress beside him. "We're talkin' about Dad. He just stopped in here and told us to quit our fightin'. Mom's always the one who wakes us up for school and tells us to shut up, so how come Dad let her have the shower first and he's doin' that?"

Looking surprised, Aaron came in and took the seat Liam offered. "Well, if Hachiro let Mom have the shower, I guess I might as well hang out till she's done. There won't be any hot water in our bathroom. What're you clowns up to in here?"

Liam grinned sheepishly. "The usual," he admitted, which made Aaron laugh. "I guess we're just wonderin', how come Dad hasn't gone to work?"

"Yeah, he's always gone when we get up," Cody put in, while Zachary scrambled out of his bunk and planted himself in Aaron's lap. Aaron ruffled the little boy's hair, watching while Cody jumped off his top bunk and came to sit on Aaron's other side.

Aaron thought it over, automatically finding the ticklish spot between Zachary's shoulder blades and sending his little brother into fits of squirmy giggles. Then he shrugged and met Liam's gaze. "Since your grandfather died, he's been kinda moody."

"What's moody?" Cody wanted to know.

"Sad, upset…unhappy," Aaron said, hitching a shoulder in what passed for a shrug. "I guess even grownups get upset when their parents die." He frowned, as if something had occurred to him. "Actually, I don't think he's going to work today."

This met with complete shock from all three of his younger brothers, even Zachary. "But Dad _always_ goes to work!" Zachary piped up at last, looking horrified.

To Lani Kaiuka Crocker Tokita, that was a great deal of the problem right there. She stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself and securing it carefully before grabbing a hand towel and subjecting her short, thick black hair to a vigorous drying. In the almost ten years since she had married Hachiro Tokita, she had noticed a particular reticence about him, something he had never bothered to talk to her about despite all the years they had known each other. It was a bad habit of his to just duck any unpleasant subject by going off to work, or finding something job-related that needed doing even at home, no matter how much his boys begged him to play catch in the backyard with them.

That had changed when his father had died three weeks before and the entire extended Tokita family had congregated on Fantasy Island for the funeral. He'd had no choice but to go, for his boss, Tom Ichino, was in fact also a native of Fantasy Island and a family friend. Tom had closed his business for the three days of the funeral, so that Hachiro couldn't turn to work as a refuge. Unfortunately, when Tom returned to Honolulu, Hachiro had insisted that Lani and the children all come back with him, using the fact that the older kids had school as an excuse. Hachiro's brother and three sisters had remained on the island for another full week, making Hachiro's departure seem callous.

Then Hachiro had come home from work for lunch yesterday and not gone back in, telling Lani in a bewildered voice that Tom had told him to take some time off and properly grieve for his father. Lani thoroughly approved of Tom's action, but she sensed there was something going on that had nothing to do with Masato's passing. She tugged a comb through her wet hair, toweled herself off—a ponderous business in the morning's heavy humidity—and finally got dry enough to pull on some clothing. She headed for the kitchen, pausing beside the door to the room Liam, Cody and Zachary shared to remind the two older ones to get up for school. To her surprise, Aaron was there, with Zachary on his lap; all four boys looked spooked.

"What's wrong, guys?" she asked.

Their heads swiveled in perfect unison and Cody asked, "How come Dad isn't going to work? He goes to work every single day!"

"Did a volcano 'rupt and set his work on fire?" Zachary wanted to know.

Lani snickered while Aaron tickled Zachary again and said affectionately, "You dork, the volcanoes on Oahu are extinct."

"What's stinkt?" Zachary managed to get out between giggles and squirms.

"Extinct," Aaron enunciated. "That means dead. The volcanoes on Oahu don't erupt anymore, only on the Big Island." He turned to Lani, who as always was impressed by her oldest son's infinite patience with all his little brothers. "Is Hachiro okay? The guys here said he let you have the shower first and came in to wake them up."

Lani sighed. "Yes, that's true. I don't think he's really okay, not since his father died. Look, you kids get dressed so you can have your breakfast. Before you get in the shower, Aaron, do me a favor and see if Griffen and Tyler and Olivia are up yet."

"Sure, Mom," Aaron agreed and lifted Zachary off his lap before standing. "You're gonna have to go roust Eph out of bed again though. He's pulling the usual stunt."

Lani grunted in response, deciding to leave the problem of Ephraim for later. She wasn't in the mood for dealing with him this morning; instead she headed for the kitchen. She knew Hachiro would be in there alone, and she was determined to talk to him while they still had some privacy.

Hachiro peered at his wife in wary surprise when she walked into the room; she had a look on her face that he knew all too well and didn't like very much. When she got that look, she meant to drag something out of him. "Morning," he offered.

"You too," she said, pulling out a chair at the dining-room table to sit beside him. "So what's going on? Did Tom tell you to stay away indefinitely?"

Hachiro snorted. "Not exactly indefinitely," he said. "But too long."

Lani sat back hard in her chair and regarded him till he began to squirm in just the way Zachary did when Aaron tickled him. "Okay, Hachiro, that's the last straw," she said, making him stare at her like a stag watching a Mack truck bearing down on it in the middle of a four-lane highway. "I've known you almost ever since Warren and I were divorced. I've been your wife for close to ten years now. But if you want to know something, I'm amazed we're still married, and I'm amazed the boys haven't all tried to run away from home at one point or another. Or rebelled against you, or something. You are, no doubt about it, the most close-mouthed man I've ever known in my life. Why are you like that? I'm your wife, Hachiro, but you don't even talk to me. Do you talk to anyone? Did you _ever_ talk to anyone? Do you ever _want_ to?"

Hachiro felt his mouth fall open, but for the life of him he honestly couldn't think of a single thing to tell her. He had been so used to keeping to himself, and so used to everyone letting him get away with it, that he'd never given it a second thought. It was instinctive with him now, after going just about all his life this way. While he searched his suddenly deactivated brain for something to tell her—even if it were only something to put her off—she shook her head and began to shove her chair back. "I guess that's my answer," she mumbled and got to her feet to get on with the daily ritual.

"No, wait," Hachiro blurted, startling even himself. Lani froze and turned to peer at him over one shoulder, her eyes skeptical. "Sit down, Lani. Come on."

Slowly she did so, watching him all the time. "Don't tell me you're actually gonna say something this time."

He would have raked his hand through his hair if there'd been any left atop his head. Instead he dragged a palm over the smooth skin on his skull and blew out a loud breath, peering into the recessed lighting in the ceiling over the table. "I feel like there's something…missing in my life," he said, picking his way along.

Lani's face took on a wounded look. "Missing?"

Hachiro reached across the table and grabbed her hand before she could withdraw any further. "It's not you," he insisted. "I swear it's not you. It's…it's been, well, I mean, it's something that started a long time before I ever met you. I mean…look." He propped his forehead against one hand, staring at the table centerpiece, his inner eye focused on something else. "I'm no good at self-analysis. But when Dad died, I think it started getting clearer just what was going on." He cast her a wary look and tightened his grip on her hand. "Tom saw it too. I guess he's seen it for eons. I mean, heck, we knew each other from kindergarten, after all. He told me I really should go back and talk to them."

"Them, who?" Lani asked, now leaning forward in her chair, her attention rapt.

"My mother," Hachiro said, his voice little more than a whisper. "My sisters and Saburo. Myeko too, I guess, and Alexander and Noelle."

Lani regarded him, waiting for him to continue; he'd been on a roll there, she thought, and for just a few bright seconds she had been certain she'd finally hear what lay behind all his years of reticence. But he sat staring at something only he could see, a strange expression on his face, his hand still clutching hers.

She ended up prodding, the way she so hated doing. "And what else?"

"Uh?" he muttered, his attention elsewhere.

"There's something else," Lani said, lowering her voice as she heard those of several of their sons being raised in a new argument. For the moment she ignored it, sure she was too close to having Hachiro confide in her. "Tell me what it is."

Hachiro drooped over the table and let his head fall till his chin hit his chest. Lani felt a shiver of alarm skitter up her backbone; never had he looked so defeated. Then he said in a low, broken tone, "Leslie."

It took Lani several seconds to place the name; when she did, she found herself awash in recollections of talks she had had with her sister-in-law, Michiko, and Hachiro's ex-wife, Myeko, two summers ago at the enormous Tokita family reunion. Myeko had told her about Hachiro's high-school crush on Leslie Hamilton, a friend of both Myeko and Michiko. At the time Lani hadn't thought much about it; her primary motivation had been to get more information from Myeko about Hachiro.

But now Myeko's words came back to Lani, about how Hachiro had had a crush on Leslie all through high school, how he'd treated her so rudely from then on and had lost even the hope of a friendship, how Myeko had known all about it but never had a problem with it because she knew how Leslie felt about him. Lani, on the other hand, had a hard time feeling that magnanimous. Okay, so maybe Leslie didn't care for Hachiro—but clearly, Hachiro not only had cared for Leslie, but apparently still did!

Lani yanked her hand out of his, startling him from whatever reverie he'd sunk into, and shot from her chair as if it had just caught fire. "Leslie, huh?" she said, icicles hanging off her tone. "So that's what your problem's always been."

Hachiro goggled at her; not only his face but his entire head and neck turned flaming scarlet. "Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

Lani sneered at him. "Myeko told me a couple years ago, how she had to poke you with a cattle prod to get your attention way back when, how you finally married her only because you got engaged to her before Leslie came back to the island widowed. She told me it never bothered her because she knew how Leslie felt about you. But I guess you don't, Hachiro Tokita! Almost thirty years after she turned you down for one lousy date, you're still carrying a torch for her, aren't you!"

Hachiro pushed himself to his own feet, feeling as if he were caught in a nightmare and hoping, without much conviction, that he'd wake up. "Lani…" he began weakly, unable to think of anything to add to it, because damn it all, she was right! She had found his sore spot and not just uncovered it, but started throwing rocks at it. "Don't."

"Don't what? Don't take away your secret little crush from you? In case you forgot, dear heart, both you and Leslie are married to other people—and I'm sure she still doesn't feel any more kindly toward you than she ever did. Does she know how you feel?"

Hachiro shrugged, visited with the mocking memory of that time he'd tried to talk her into falling for him, when she'd still been widowed and he'd been divorced, and before she'd met Christian. He'd been so humiliated after that that he had made it a point to return to Fantasy Island as seldom as he could get away with. Lani had guessed his secret after all this time, and he was deathly afraid that she'd use it as an excuse to do something drastic, such as take their children and leave—or worse, throw him out. "I don't know," he finally confessed, "but probably."

Lani made a disgusted grunt and rolled her eyes. "Oh really, Hachiro, you take the cake! I can't believe you actually still feel like that, not after what Myeko told me you did to her and what's happened in all the time since then. Why?"

"I don't know," Hachiro repeated, throwing his hands in the air. "For crying out loud, Lani, I have no idea. I can't even figure it out for myself, much less tell you. Why do you think I never wanted to go back to Fantasy Island?"

Lani's mouth opened so wide that he could have sailed a battleship into it. Her lower jaw moved a couple of times; then she slashed the air with a violent motion of one arm. "I'm speechless," she muttered, turning away. "You refused to visit the family, even your parents, for all those years because you…" She caught herself and then whipped around to stare at him. "Because you what, exactly?"

_Hell,_ thought Hachiro, _she knows this much, might as well spill the rest of the beans._ "I didn't want to run into her somewhere. I didn't want to see her."

Lani drove both hands into her hair. "I don't know whether to be glad or furious about that. And how come you didn't want to see her?"

At that Hachiro balked; his temper rose and he shoved his chair back under the table with a crash. "I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself!"

"Yeah," Lani murmured, taking in the sight of him, so red he was headed for purple, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his chest heaving. "Yeah, I guess I can. You just couldn't stand the way you figured she'd react to you. You didn't want to face yet another rejection, so you'd be able to hold onto your hopeless fantasies about her."

He said nothing; there wasn't anything he could say. The argument between at least three of their sons had been escalating unnoticed all this time; now, before either of them could carry on their own sparring, Cody's voice howled, "Mom!"

"You'd better go back, Hachiro," Lani warned him low. "Tom gave you this time off. You better use it right. Go back to Fantasy Island and get Leslie out of your system once and for all, or I swear, you might as well not bother coming home." She pivoted on one heel and stalked into the kitchen, shouting, "What the hell are you fighting about now?" Hachiro could hear her leftover rage from their own fight leaching into her annoyance with the boys, and winced. He didn't like it, but Lani was right. He was going to have to go back home to Fantasy Island and set himself straight, not only for his own good, but for that of his family and his marriage.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § - May 5, 2007

Hachiro fidgeted as the charter plane took off from Honolulu International; it felt strange to him, being on this plane, and even more so since he had done it only a couple of weeks ago. He readjusted the lap belt, squirmed in the seat, shot several glances out the little window beside him, sneaked curious looks at the other passengers. It had annoyed him to realize that, since he no longer resided on Fantasy Island, he was ineligible for the discount on the charter fare that Roarke extended to all islanders. He'd tried arguing that he was born and raised there, but it had done no good. Native or not, you had to be living on the island to get the discount. He'd subsided and forked over the full fare for his reserved seat, glad that at least he'd had the foresight to call ahead from Maunawili and make a reservation for one of the charter flights. A reservation cost a mere fraction of the price of what was known as an "impulse pass". And it didn't matter which flight you reserved a seat on, as long as you reserved in advance. Not that he'd cared what time he got in; any flight was fine with him. Any, he amended, except the first flight of Saturday morning. That was reserved exclusively for Roarke's fantasizing guests, and anyway, he wasn't ready to face Leslie the second he set foot on the island. So he'd taken the day's third charter, which would arrive around noonish but still required him to leave the house at a fairly early hour in order to catch the plane on time.

After the better part of Friday had gone by without their exchanging so much as a grunt, Lani had thawed out enough to respond to his pleas to sit down and talk this thing out. He supposed she'd probably agreed only because it was unprecedented for him to ask to have a discussion; but he was so unnerved by what had amounted to her threat to not let him in the house when he got back that he had been driven to insist on another talk. And he had finally told her what he'd never told anyone—not Michiko, not Myeko, certainly not Leslie. He'd told her about the first time he'd ever seen Leslie Hamilton, how he'd been idly reading the Sunday paper one day when he was in ninth grade and come across a photo of Roarke, Tattoo, and Roarke's new ward, the subject of an accompanying interview. The girl in the picture had smiled bravely, but there was a volatile mix of emotions so strong that they clearly showed through even in the grainy newspaper shot: hope, fear, leftover grief from losing her family. Something about Leslie's expression had held his attention and he had stared at the picture for a long time.

Then he'd been amazed to find that his own sister Michiko had become friends with the new girl on her first day of school, and had made up his mind that one way or another, he was going to get Leslie Hamilton's attention. He'd cut his last class at Fantasy Island High one Friday just to search for Leslie at the junior high school, found her at her locker trying repeatedly to get its balky combination lock to work properly, and asked her out for the weekend, only to be turned down. And, he'd thought ever after, for the most imbecilic reason he'd ever heard—to work with Roarke and Tattoo all weekend! His ego might have been less bruised had she told him another boy had asked her out first, but she was brushing him off in favor of work. Unable to believe it, and thinking in his humiliated frustration that maybe she wasn't as smart or cute as she'd looked in that newspaper picture, he'd taken out that frustration on her and thus set up an antagonism that had lasted ever since.

He had told Lani about how, when he'd heard that Leslie had unexpectedly gotten married to some Finn and shipped off to Europe with him, he'd been dazed for weeks, trying to understand what that guy had done that had diverted her attention away from the second-assistant job Roarke had given her that she loved so much. When it was time for him to return to college for his senior year, he had finally come out of his funk enough to let Myeko Sensei get her hooks into him, the way she'd been trying to do all through high school. Leslie, he'd figured, was gone for good; he might as well stick close to home.

With that in mind, he'd let Myeko talk him into getting married—only to have Leslie come home a widow within six weeks of their engagement announcement. His first impulse had been to head straight for the main house to welcome her home; but his mother, who'd known from the start about his feelings for Leslie and probably suspected what he might do in a rash moment, had put a quick stop to that, telling him firmly that breaking his engagement to Myeko not only would be callous, disrespectful and a complete breach of good manners, but would also break the heart of a fine young girl of whom both his parents wholeheartedly approved. She had even gone so far as to forbid him to see Leslie in any context. Her reasons had gone over his besotted head at the time, but in retrospect, looking at it from the perspective of his forty-three years, he could see the wisdom in her edict.

It was too bad, Hachiro thought, squirming again in his too-small seat (or was he just getting too big now, he thought guiltily?), that he still hadn't learned anything by the time Roarke had granted him and Myeko their divorce. No matter how long he lived, he would never stop cringing every time he thought about how he'd actually paid Roarke to give him a fantasy to make Leslie fall in love with him. Roarke had refused on ethical grounds, but had managed to get Leslie to agree to meet Hachiro at a restaurant and talk to him. What Leslie had said had flattened his ego all the further; after that, he had stayed away from Fantasy Island, smarting mightily under her rejection. The following year, he had met Lani and Leslie had met Prince Christian of Lilla Jordsö, and after that there'd been no looking back for either one of them. Well, Hachiro amended, trying to face the full brutal truth, that had been true of Leslie, but not of him. To this day he found himself wondering what might have been, had he understood Leslie better all those years ago when she'd explained why she wouldn't go out with him that first weekend.

He'd told Lani the whole sordid story, and she had sat motionless and expressionless all the way through. When he'd finished, she had studied him without speaking for a long few minutes; then she had sighed and said only, "You're gonna have a long weekend." With that, she'd gotten up and left him alone to ponder whether his outpouring hadn't been a waste of time after all.

He'd been awake most of last night, and his eyes burned from lack of sleep, but he had no better luck trying to sleep away the charter flight. The seat was just too uncomfortable, and he eventually resigned himself to staring out at the Pacific undulating below the plane and letting it hypnotize him till they landed. He had nothing else to do and hadn't even thought to bring a book to read. So for Hachiro, the flight dragged out for what seemed quadruple their actual time in the air, and it was both a huge relief and a stomach-wrenching ordeal when the plane taxied into the lagoon and bobbed to a halt beside the landing dock. He let everyone else disembark ahead of him, then lagged behind even farther till he had the clearing entirely to himself and even the jeeps had departed with the new arrivals. He didn't need transportation; he planned to stay at his mother's house.

When he got there, he was startled to see Michiko sitting with Miyoshi at the kitchen table, each with her hands wrapped around a cup of Japanese green tea. They gaped at him every bit as hard as he gaped at them, till finally Michiko released her cup and folded her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair. "Well," she said dryly, "if it isn't our very own prodigal son, come home to roost. What brings you back?"

Of all the things in the world, the last one he needed was to have to explain to her why he was here. Miyoshi, ever patient, ever understanding, would be hard enough for him to enlighten. He expected his sister only to make fun of him, and he refused to say anything in front of her. He fell back on the excuse he'd been given at work. "I was told to take some time off and grieve properly."

Michiko shrugged. "Whatever you say," she said and got out of her chair. In Japanese she addressed Miyoshi: "Thank you for the tea, Mother."

Miyoshi smiled and nodded, responding in kind. "Thank you for coming today, Michiko-chan. When are you to leave for Arcolos?"

"Errico told me to remain for the full summer," said Michiko. "He said not to worry about coming back till the end of August, so I'm going to have an extended vacation here at home." She peered at Hachiro. "And how long are you here?"

"As long as it takes," said Hachiro, aiming to be cryptic.

"As long as what takes?" asked Michiko, of course. He should have known.

"Let him be, Michiko-chan," Miyoshi admonished, and she subsided. In all their lives, none of the Tokita children had ever heard Miyoshi speak above the decibel level of a quiet conversation; Hachiro had wondered for many years if his mother had ever in her life been truly angry. She never showed it, to be sure, no matter how much her children—particularly Hachiro himself—had provoked her as they were growing up.

While he was thinking this, Michiko left the kitchen, and Hachiro focused on his mother. He'd used English with his sister, but their mother spoke English only when it was necessary; he and his brother and sisters had grown up speaking Japanese at home and English everywhere else. However, Hachiro's Japanese had grown somewhat rusty over the years because of his prolonged absences from the island and the rarity of telephone calls to his parents, so he had all the more reason to be nervous.

He sat down and contemplated Michiko's abandoned teacup. Before she spoke, Miyoshi laid a hand on his. "So you are back so soon, Hachiro-chan? You look troubled."

Hachiro had to consciously switch his brain to think in Japanese, and hesitated before he replied, pulling the words out of some dusty pool of memory. "Yes, you could say that," he agreed. He met her gaze for the first time and saw something in his mother's black eyes that made him forget his own problems for the moment. "But I'm not the only one who's troubled, I think. What's wrong?"

Miyoshi's hand curled around his as if for support, and she lowered her head, her gaze dropping away. "You are all gone from this house now," she said softly. "All five of my children have long since made their own lives. And now my husband is gone as well. This house is too large for one small woman alone. I think I should sell it."

He had been back a mere handful of times since divorcing Myeko and moving off the island; yet the thought of his childhood home being sold was enough to make his stomach roll. "But Mama-san," he protested, so startled that he reverted to his childhood name for her, "who would you sell it to? Couldn't it be kept in the family?"

Miyoshi tilted her head at him, birdlike. "Who will buy it? Kayoko and Kiichiro have their own small home on the island already, and they don't need so many rooms. Saburo and his wife are preparing to retire to the island also, and they are looking for a little home of their own here. Michiko and Reiko both live in Arcolos. And you have your home, your work and your family in Hawaii." She paused, and a gleam filled those bottomless black eyes. "And I think you won't want to sell your Hawaii home and come back to this island, not even to buy your childhood home. It's much too close for you."

Hachiro was blindsided by her insight, but at the same time he wasn't surprised that she'd know that. He took a really good look at his mother. Her round little face was etched with countless wrinkles; her hair had gone cloud-white, and she had shrunk even further in her old age. Hachiro figured she was probably no more than five feet tall now. Yet in that tiny frame and under that snowy hair was seventy-eight years' worth of wisdom and understanding. Raised with the Japanese tenet of revering the elderly, Hachiro felt humbled and grateful, all of a sudden, that he still had his mother and that he could talk to her without having to go into too much detail. What he didn't say, she would glean. Miyoshi had always been able to read between the lines.

So, speaking quietly, he explained to Miyoshi why he had returned to the island and the events that had led to it. Miyoshi listened in silence, nodding now and then to show she was absorbing his words, and let him complete his spiel without interruption.

She sat a while when he'd finished; then she looked at him with the faintest of smiles on her heavily lined face. "I remember when you first saw Leslie's photo. I thought, so my Hachiro has fallen in love."

Hachiro felt his mouth drop open but couldn't seem to do anything about it. "In love? Are you serious? You really thought that?"

Miyoshi's eyes twinkled. "Isn't it true? You were in love." Her smile faded and she said gently, "Your problem is that you still are in love."

Hachiro could see no alternative but to admit it, and did so with a sigh. "I know she never felt that way about me. I tried to explain to Lani that it was one reason I stayed away from Fantasy Island for so long. No use stirring up the pot and upsetting everyone."

"That is how I know you are still in love with her. You didn't want to tempt fate, but I think Lani is right too. You didn't want to see Leslie and risk another rejection."

"She's as bad as you are, Mama-san. She saw right through me when she said that. I tell you, it's true that I didn't want to risk doing something stupid by being here, even on a visit, and seeing her, even if it was just in passing. But yeah, that was the biggest reason of all that I stayed away so much. Michiko's her best friend. How could I avoid seeing her unless I never came here? Now you know the truth behind the rarity of my visits."

"Oh, we always knew that…your father knew it too. We understood it, but we were still saddened by it. Your father told me more than once that someday you must return here and face your feelings for Leslie."

Hachiro felt helpless. "I've had them for so long I don't know if I can erase them."

"When you consider the situation, Hachiro-chan, you _must_ try to eradicate them once and for all. You are married to Lani. Leslie is married to her prince. And most of all, Leslie has never returned your feelings for her. There is no hope for them, and you must find a way to overcome them, for the good of everyone involved."

"I know what to do, Mama-san. What I don't know is how to do it." Hachiro studied his mother's wizened little face. "Can you tell me how?"

Miyoshi tilted her head again, sympathy filling her deep dark eyes. "I have been alive many years and learned many things, Hachiro-chan, but that is one thing I never discovered the answer to. I can only offer this—perhaps you should speak with Mr. Roarke."

Hachiro nodded agreement and squeezed his mother's hand. "That might be the only way I can even start to find an answer. Mama-san, I should have said this many times before now, but I hope you knew it all along—I love you, and I'm glad to be able to come to you."

"I am happy that you feel you can come to me," said Miyoshi and smiled again. "It is the weekend, so of course, Mr. Roarke and Leslie will be busy. But perhaps you can call the main house and leave a message for him, and ask him if you can speak with him."

Hachiro nodded. "That's probably the best way to do it. Thank you, Mama-san, I'll do that right away."

‡ ‡ ‡

Lunch had just ended, and Roarke, Leslie and Christian had brought the triplets back into the house, where they planned to wait for Haruko to return from eating her own lunch at home. "Are you sure there's nothing pressing at your office?" Leslie asked, hoisting Karina onto her lap after sitting on the loveseat. "You keep checking your watch."

Christian, caught in that very act, laughed. "Okay, you got me," he teased her, returning her grin. "I'm supposed to be sitting in on a job-interview conference in Boston. Ben Keller set it up via the computers, so that I can both see and hear what's transpiring and judge the applicant for myself. It's supposed to begin at six-thirty Boston time, and I'm trying to be sure I leave enough time to get back to the office before it starts. Ben insisted I have final say on whether this candidate gets hired, so my presence is imperative."

"Ever since you brought that guy down a few pegs, he's deferred to you in practically everything," Leslie remarked. "Although I suppose that makes some sense in this case—I know how you like to have final say in hiring people, if at all possible."

Christian nodded. "There are times when Keller drives me halfway to perdition, but I put up with it because he's turned the Boston branch into the most profitable one I have. I don't know whether it's his reputation or mine that's made the place the success it is."

"I'd say it's you," Leslie offered loyally, just as Haruko walked in. "Oh, there you are. Have a good lunch?"

"Yup," Haruko said and grinned. Nearly finished with eleventh grade, she would be seventeen in August, and was already looking into colleges she wanted to attend after she graduated from Fantasy Island High in another year. "But it's a good thing the triplets weren't there. My mother made rice cakes, and I know how crazy they are about those."

Christian and Leslie grinned at her and each other; some time ago, Haruko had brought back one of Katsumi's delicious homemade rice cakes, and when she'd shared it with the triplets, all three of them had instantly fallen hard for the taste and actually cried when Haruko told them she didn't have any more. "A good thing, all right," Leslie agreed. "Well, I guess they're ready for some more playing. They're refueled for the afternoon and just raring to go."

"I was thinking about taking them over to the new kids' wading pool Mr. Roarke had put in next to the adult pool," Haruko said. "Is that okay with you, Mr. Enstad and Miss Leslie? It's a pretty hot day out, and I promise to keep a sharp eye on them."

"They have swimsuits in my old room," Leslie said. "I'll go up with you and look for them." Christian watched Leslie head upstairs with Haruko and the children, then consulted his watch one more time before turning his attention to Roarke, who had been organizing his desktop the entire time they had been talking.

Then he noticed something and pointed out, "Mr. Roarke, the light on your answering machine is flashing."

Roarke paused for a second, then said, "Ah, so it is. Thank you, Christian." He pushed the button to play the message back while gathering together some papers and stacking them to place into an open folder on the desk.

"_Hello, Mr. Roarke, this is Hachiro Tokita. I was wondering if you'd have any free time either today or tomorrow to talk with me for a while. I've got something to discuss with you, but it's not an emergency, so whenever you can get back to me, that's fine. Thanks for your time."_ A click followed this; by the time they heard it, both Roarke and Christian were staring curiously at the machine.

"Intriguing," Roarke commented after a few seconds.

"Hachiro Tokita?" Christian said. "I know I've heard the name somewhere before, but I can't seem to place it. He's a brother of Michiko, isn't he?"

"Yes. For most of his life he was called 'Toki'," Roarke replied.

That provided the memory Christian was looking for. "Oh," he said, frowning. "As I understand it, he's very rarely here on the island, and I know he was just here for his father's funeral last month."

"Indeed…and I sense it would take something very important to him to bring him back so quickly." Roarke lifted the back cover of his date book and let pages riffle by one thumb till he got the one he wanted, then ran a finger down the page and nodded. "I think I can see him late this afternoon. Oh, and Christian, I daresay you'd better hurry back to your office. Unless I miss my guess, your Boston office manager will be contacting you within the next eight minutes."

It wasn't even 1:15 yet, and Roarke hadn't bothered to consult a timepiece. Christian really tried not to react; he felt that by now he should be used to the odd happenings, great and small, that constantly occurred on this island. But he couldn't help throwing Roarke a disbelieving glance even as he arose from his chair. "In fate's name, I will never understand how you can know the unknowable," he complained, heading for the door. "I'll just have to pretend it's normal. Thank you for the warning." Roarke let him go out before he released the chuckle he'd been holding back; then he double-checked the open time slot for the day's date before picking up the phone and punching out the number to the Tokita home.

"Tokita residence," said a male voice.

"Hello, Hachiro, this is Mr. Roarke. You indicated that you wished to speak with me," Roarke said warmly.

"Oh yeah, I did," Hachiro said. "Thanks for calling me back. When can I see you?"

"If you can be here at four-thirty this afternoon, I have half an hour I can spare for you. It's an especially busy weekend for us, so I apologize that I can give you no more time than that." Roarke picked up a pencil and made a notation.

"That's okay, I think I can make do with half an hour," Hachiro said. "I'm just glad you can talk with me. Busy, huh? I guess that's because of Leslie's birthday tomorrow."

"Indeed," Roarke said, smiling, unsurprised he would remember. "Perhaps you'd like to attend the party we are planning?"

There was a long hesitation; then he heard Hachiro clear his throat at some length and smiled inwardly. He knew all at once what Hachiro wanted to talk to him about, and had to admit to himself that he wasn't really surprised. At last Hachiro hedged, "Well, I don't know yet. My mother's talking about selling the house, and I might need to be here to help her make the decisions surrounding that. But thanks for inviting me."

Roarke smiled, this time physically. "You're quite welcome, and if you change your mind, you have only to come and join us. Then I'll see you at four-thirty."

"Great. Thanks again, Mr. Roarke. See you then." Hachiro hung up, and Roarke put the receiver back on the hook just before Leslie came back down. He proceeded to send his daughter on an errand, without bothering to tell her about the phone call he'd just received; there was no need as yet for her to know. But at some point soon, he intended to talk to Leslie in at least as much depth as he expected to be talking with Hachiro.

The day grew so busy that he forgot about the appointment, and had been looking forward to a few minutes to catch his breath. So when four-thirty arrived and the inner-foyer door eased open, he was surprised, till a voice asked, "Mr. Roarke?"

Reminded, he closed his date book and slipped a list underneath it. Scheduling newly accepted fantasy requests would have to wait a little longer; maybe he'd ask Leslie to do it. "Come in, Hachiro, and sit down. Would you like anything?"

"No thanks," Hachiro said, taking the chair Roarke offered. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"Not at all. Now, what can I do for you?"

The story was growing stale from repetition, so Hachiro merely summarized it. He'd remembered on the way here that Roarke tended to know things nobody had told him, so he felt secure enough in getting away with just the salient points. "So," he concluded, "Lani told me to get out here and work this thing through or not bother going back to her and the kids, and my mother said I should start working on getting past those feelings too, since both of us are married to others. I just don't know how to begin."

"That you are attempting to begin at all is commendable," Roarke told him. "Had you had any thoughts about how to begin, no matter how farfetched they may have seemed?"

"The only thing I could think of is to talk to Leslie," Hachiro admitted. "I don't know how else to do it. The way I was doing it doesn't seem to be working."

"By remaining away from the island?" Roarke prompted, and he nodded. "Was it your thought that staying away would reduce temptation on your part, or were you merely afraid of Leslie's negative reaction?"

Hachiro, caught out again, rolled his eyes. "I guess this is home-truth week for me, huh? You and my mother and Lani all got down to the nitty-gritty. It was both, really, but if we're telling the brutal truth here, mostly it was because I knew how Leslie'd react." He paused for a moment, his gaze going inward; then he asked in a boyishly plaintive voice, "Why does she hate me so much?"

"Perhaps 'hate' is too strong a word," Roarke began, but Hachiro shook his head.

"No it isn't. I think she's hated me ever since I botched up that first time I tried to ask her out. I've heard enough talk from Michiko over the years that I know she grew to hate me because of the way I treated her in high school, and nothing Michiko's ever said since then indicates that anything's changed." He finally looked Roarke straight in the eye. "And you haven't said anything to suggest it either, so I have to conclude that I'm still paying for my mistakes in high school by forfeiting her friendship—or even the hope of it."

"And you feel that the only way you will be able to get past your lingering feelings for Leslie is to speak with her," Roarke said, "yet you so fear her apparent revulsion for you that you quail at the very idea."

"That's about it," Hachiro said, exhaling loudly.

Roarke made a contemplative noise, letting his gaze drift for a few seconds while he considered what to do. Frankly, the next step would have to be that talk with Leslie; until he knew the precise extent of her feelings about Hachiro, he couldn't do very much. He took in Hachiro's defeated look, noted the bewilderment and desperation in the younger man's expression, and smiled. "For the moment, I am afraid there is little I can do. It's necessary for me to speak with Leslie before I can suggest anything further. However, once I have done so and she has reached a decision, I'll contact you and advise you accordingly. Will that be satisfactory?"

"It'll have to be," Hachiro said with a shrug. "There's really nothing else I can do but wait for the verdict, I guess." He arose, then focused on Roarke and tried to smile. "Thanks for your time, Mr. Roarke. I really appreciate your help."

"Not at all," Roarke replied and arose to shake hands with him. "Try not to let it rule your every waking moment, Hachiro. If you need a distraction, you might try concentrating on helping your mother through her decision about selling your family home."

"That oughta do it," Hachiro agreed. "Okay, I'll wait for your call, and thanks again." He departed in silence; Roarke remained standing till he had closed the door, then slowly resumed his seat, thinking back over what he had seen in Hachiro's mien. Yes, he'd noticed desperation in those eyes, there was no mistake about it. But what, exactly, sparked that desperation? Was it just Hachiro's hope of banishing his old crush on Leslie once and for all, and winning back his wife—or was it the reckless wish of a man whose oldest fantasy had never been fulfilled?


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § - May 6, 2007

The morning of Leslie's forty-second birthday promised to be hectic; preparations were already under way for the celebration, which would be in the lawn beside the main house that afternoon. Roarke had thought for some time about when he should broach the subject of Hachiro Tokita with Leslie, and in the end decided it might be best to bring it up sooner rather than later. Once breakfast had ended, he decided on the spur of the moment to insist that Christian stay behind and participate in the discussion; he might be a calming influence on Leslie.

So when Haruko took the triplets out to the children's wading pool again, he detained Christian and Leslie in the study as they were preparing to go about their respective jobs. "Perhaps you can spare a little time today, since it's Sunday and also Leslie's birthday," Roarke said, stopping a surprised Christian in his tracks as he was ascending into the foyer. "Leslie, I'd like to talk to you. I think it's rather important."

Leslie exchanged a glance with Christian and quipped, "Well, if you're having Christian stay, it can't be a job evaluation." Christian chuckled and came back to take one of the chairs in front of Roarke's desk; Leslie sat in the other and both made themselves comfortable. "So what's on your mind, Father?"

Roarke drew in and slowly released a breath, then decided there was no reason to be delicate about it. "This has to do with Hachiro Tokita."

He had been watching Leslie when he said the name, and sure enough, he noticed her tense up. "What about him?" she wanted to know.

"You may not have been aware that he is back on the island, staying at the family home with his mother," Roarke began.

"He should," Leslie broke in, her tone heated. "He was the first one to leave after his father's funeral. Michiko was outraged."

"Leslie," Roarke cut her off in his turn, and his tone was sharp enough that she pulled up short and snapped her mouth shut. "He has a good reason for being here, and it has little to do with his father's funeral or anything involving his family. It's to do with you."

Her head came up and she stared at him, eyes wary. "What's he want with me?"

"To speak with you," Roarke said. "I believe it's for the best, at any rate. Before you evince your usual upset at the mere mention of the man's name, let me explain further." He then told her the same story Hachiro had related to him the previous afternoon. By the time he finished, both Christian and Leslie looked astonished.

"All this time, he's nursed that crush on her?" Christian asked. "I don't know whether to be repulsed or impressed, since my wife is the object of said crush."

"I know what I am," Leslie muttered, shaking her head. "What's the matter with that guy, anyway? He's been married twice, and both his wives were really in love with him, but he didn't give a flying flip about either one of them, apparently."

Roarke cleared his throat, bringing her head up again. "Leslie, I have a question for you, one that Hachiro himself posed yesterday. I doubt he would have, but I believe he is feeling unusually vulnerable now, in the wake of his father's death. In his precise words, why do you hate him so much?"

The question froze her, and she gaped at him, eyes nearly round. Christian watched her for a few seconds, then looked at Roarke. "Is that how he sees it? That she hates him?"

"I am afraid," Roarke admitted, "that that's also how I see it. Over the years, Leslie has reacted very strongly whenever Hachiro's name came up, and all because of one incident in her first few weeks here. I've wondered from time to time precisely why her feelings remain so strong after all these years, particularly since Hachiro has said he has stayed away from the island because of her."

She gasped, her expression hunted. "Why is everyone suddenly blaming me for Hachiro's misery? What makes this my fault?"

Roarke lifted a hand and she subsided; Christian reached over and wrapped one of his hands around one of hers. "No one is blaming you, Leslie," Roarke said, more gently. "It was a defense mechanism. He has harbored his unrequited feelings for you for so long that he felt it was best for everyone involved to stay away from the island. He feared that he might be foolish enough to succumb to whatever temptation he felt around you—that's the rationale he presented to his wife and his mother, but they both understood the true reason, as did I. In reality, he simply didn't want to experience the humiliation of yet another harsh rejection from you, whether it be of his deepest emotions about you, or even the simplest overtures of platonic friendship. I think he feels you've embarrassed him enough."

"That still sounds like I'm the cause of all his misery," Leslie protested, throwing Christian a look that begged for understanding. He squeezed her hand but said nothing, as if sensing it was his place to do no more than offer moral support.

"In a way, perhaps you are," Roarke said, his voice gentler still. "Leslie, my child, you shouldn't take this the wrong way, and I can see that you're already upset enough that you may very well do so. Please try to listen with an open mind. During your high-school years, after you turned him down the first time he asked you for a date, when he made fun of you on what seemed like every occasion he could manage to do so, he did it because he felt it was the only way he could get your attention. And he wanted that, very badly. He had that crush on you even then, Leslie, all through those years when you considered him the one scourge of your life. He nursed those feelings, waiting through his college years, perhaps hoping that the day would come when both of you had matured enough that he could reveal himself to you and you would be more receptive to him. But then you married Teppo and left the island, and he felt that there was no hope left, which is why he then allowed Myeko to talk him into marriage."

By this time Leslie was speechless, so Christian ventured, "I wonder if Myeko ever realized that she was very much in second place in Hachiro's affections."

"I believe she did," Roarke said. "She didn't mention anything directly to me, but I am sure she and Leslie have spoken about it, and my understanding is that Myeko didn't mind because she knew Leslie never returned Hachiro's love for her." Both he and Christian saw Leslie flinch at the word _love_, and Christian squeezed her hand again. "In any case, a few years later, Hachiro and Myeko divorced, by which time Leslie was back on the island after Teppo's death."

"I remember that," Leslie said, her voice tentative, as if afraid the mere act of speaking would bring down some sort of repercussion for all her years of not having considered Hachiro's side of the story. "He came to you wanting you to make me fall in love with him, and you told him it was ethically objectionable."

Roarke nodded. "You did, of course, speak with him that weekend."

"I told him how I felt and that there was no way he could even hope for a friendship with me after all those years of picking on me," Leslie said in a small voice. She caught Christian's sympathetic wince, and peered plaintively at him. "I never got the chance to stand up for myself till he asked for that talk, and I thought I'd better seize the day, if you know what I mean. I wanted to make myself perfectly clear to him." Her voice rose with remembered indignation. "He seemed to have this idea that, now that he was divorced and I was widowed, the path was clear for him and me to get together. I don't know if he understood how I actually felt about him. Well, if he didn't before, he did after."

Christian grinned. "I have no doubt of it. You don't mince words when your feelings are that strong, my Rose. You really didn't want even to be friends with him?"

Leslie shook her head. "Well, think about it. It's pretty hard for someone in love with someone else to accept a platonic friendship. For some people it's enough, that they have contact with this person they love, and they're on good terms. But I think I had the sense that it wouldn't have been enough for Hachiro. I'm not sure why. I mean…he never struck me as being the go-getter type. It occurred to me once when I was talking to Michiko that I'd never seen him show enthusiasm for much of anything. He didn't seem to have any plans for his life or be looking forward to doing something he enjoyed. He just kind of drifted along, as if he was, I don't know, waiting for something to happen to him."

"It's no crime to spend one's life that way," Roarke said. "Most people would consider such an attitude to be a waste of potential and of one's lifetime. But there are always those who can't seem to find their own niche in this world. Most of us can rely on a special talent, or a heightened interest in a particular hobby or professional field, that helps us to set goals and work toward achieving them. Unfortunately, not everyone is so handily blessed, and there is little sympathy for such people. It appears Hachiro is one of them."

Christian was frowning. "Is that a particularly American attitude? I've never noticed anything like that before."

"I hope you're not gonna tell me that in Lilla Jordsö, the earth's real-life utopia, those with no ambition are readily accepted for who they are," Leslie said.

Christian blinked at her, then laughed. "I wouldn't go that far. But some are content to spend their lives attending to what seem to be thoroughly mundane pursuits in the eyes of people with ambitions toward owning their own business or winning Olympic gold or becoming president, for example. And there's no stigma attached to that, not as far as I can see. Perhaps to those closest to the so-called aimless one, but not to the general public."

"So tell me, Leslie," Roarke said, "are you scornful of Hachiro because to you, he seemed not to know what he wanted to do with his life?"

"No!" Leslie exclaimed, bolting rigidly upright in her chair. "You may not believe me, but the fact is, it made no difference to me one way or another what he did or didn't do with himself. But it galled me that he had the nerve to suggest we could hook up just because both of us happened to be single and he had designs on me. And it really made me mad that he seemed to be willing to discard any relationship or obligations he had to Myeko, Noelle and Alexander, because his sole focus was on snaring me for some reason."

"That reason being, because he was in love with you," Roarke said.

To Leslie, it sounded like a barb, and she flinched again. "Father, please stop that!"

Roarke regarded her with heightened interest. "It seems to me that, if I were to suggest any other male of your acquaintance harbored such feelings for you, you might take it more in stride. But because it's Hachiro, you find it repugnant in the extreme. More and more, his question of yesterday seems relevant to me. Why do you hate him?"

Leslie, groping for understanding and the means by which to make herself clear, put a hand in midair and stretched it out a little, as though physically trying to find her way. "It's, well…it's not hate, not exactly. I just…I…" She sputtered to a halt and closed her eyes, her hand opening and closing as if she were trying to grasp the intangible. "I just want to know one thing. If he felt like that about me, why would he treat me like he did?"

"Mr. Roarke said that it may have been the only way he thought he could get your attention," Christian reminded her.

Her eyes flew open and she stared pleadingly at Roarke. "Why do people do that? Don't they realize that it'll only drive the other person away and sour any positive feelings they might have ever had for them?"

Roarke let this hang there for a moment, then smiled faintly and suggested, "Perhaps the only way you can get an answer to that is by asking Hachiro himself."

‡ ‡ ‡

Christian was taking Leslie's birthday off, but was on his way to his office anyhow because there was one project there that he needed to complete before he could take the rest of the day. Leslie was strolling alongside him, excused from most duties because of the date. "I'm just trying to understand why he picked this morning, of all days, to bring up Hachiro's problem."

"Most likely because Hachiro happened to be here this weekend," Christian said sensibly. "I'm sure it wasn't deliberate, my Rose. But now that you know what you do, what do you plan to do about it?"

"I guess I'll have to talk to him," Leslie said, hands in her pockets, head down. "I don't see any other way. At any rate, I've got at least one question to ask him."

"The one about why he treated you as he did?" Christian guessed, and she nodded without looking up. "I'd want to ask that too, believe me. Ah, don't worry, my darling—you know things never turn out quite as dreadful as we think they will. It's the anticipation that kills us, rather than the actual event. I suspect Mr. Roarke won't insist that you do anything immediately, since it's your birthday. Tomorrow should be soon enough for Hachiro to get whatever it is he wants."

"That's just it…what does he want?" Leslie asked, stopping and staring up at him. "I know how he feels about me. I've always known, I think. I just didn't realize the extent of it, or that he still feels that way. What if he tries to shoot for the moon?"

Christian grinned and bracketed her face with his hands, leaning forward and placing a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose. "I wouldn't worry about that, my Rose. I know you. Your loyalties are strong and not easily shifted. You'll do what's right, and you'll do your best to make him see what _he_ must do. And if he has any common sense left at all, he'll accept the situation and do the right thing."

"I hope so," Leslie murmured, doubtful but wanting very much to believe Christian knew what he was talking about. "Well, come on, let's get to your office so you can finish that project of yours."

At Enstad Computer Services, Leslie was greeted with a chorus of "Happy birthday!" which she acknowledged with a broad, somewhat embarrassed grin. She settled into the chair beside the work arm of Christian's desk, while he leaned back in his own chair and peered critically at the interior of a nearly gutted computer tower. "I thought you weren't gonna be in today because of Miss Leslie's birthday," Julianne spoke up.

"It's my plan to leave when I finish with this thing," Christian said. "It belongs to a vacationer, and I have to get it done today because he leaves on the last charter out." He shook his head. "For the amount of memory he wants installed in this thing, he's going to have to pay handsomely. It'll clean out the last of the units I have in stock. Jonathan, would you mind putting in an order for another five boxes of those?"

"No problem, Boss Prince," Jonathan said and began tapping on his keyboard. Leslie watched the others working, noticing something new on Julianne's cluttered desk.

"Hey, Julianne, that looks like a photo frame," she said.

Julianne looked up and grinned, her cheeks pinkening. "Yeah, it's a picture of me and Adam." She lifted the frame and turned it around to show Leslie, who recognized it as a souvenir of one of the amusement-park attractions. Adam Ryerson had posed with Julianne for a stylized magazine cover; both were wearing big grins and looked blissful.

"That's cute," Leslie said with a laugh. "Sounds like things are going great with you and Adam."

"They are," Julianne said enthusiastically. "His family's planning to come here for a vacation later this summer, and I'll get to meet them. He's already met most of my family, except for Tommy and his bunch, so it's my turn to run the gauntlet."

"Oh, is that what they call it nowadays when you meet your significant other's relatives?" Christian teased. "Running the gauntlet? Sounds ominous."

"You never know," said Julianne with sham solemnity, and Christian snorted with amusement, making her laugh. "I'm not worried. Adam says they're really cool folks. He told me his parents are thrilled to death that he's finally got a serious girlfriend."

"Sounds like a good sign," Christian said, chuckling. "Well, it's nice that your love life is going so smoothly." He picked up a small tool and began tinkering inside the tower. "I hope everyone else's is as harmonious."

"I'm still looking," admitted Beth Keoki from her desk. "Even at the Valentine party, I didn't find anyone. But what the heck, I'm still young."

"So you are," Christian observed, glancing at her. "Young enough to make me feel my age, I'll say that much. Anton, what of you?"

Anton smiled; he had been dating Andrea—Jonathan, Julianne and Camille's oldest sister—for several years now. "I finally dared propose to Andrea a few months ago, now that her Janine has matured enough to accept a stepfather. She agreed, and Denise is happy as well. We're hoping my ex-wife will allow my children to attend the wedding in July."

"And we're just now hearing about it?" Julianne complained. "Geez, Anton, I knew you were private, but you're even worse than Boss Prince. That's just going too far, when I don't even know you're engaged and it's my own sister you proposed to!"

Everyone burst into laughter, and Leslie giggled too, feeling better among the banter of her husband and his co-workers. Christian was right: there was no sense worrying about her upcoming confrontation with Hachiro Tokita. Today was her birthday, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it and put off her troubles till later.

§ § § - May 7, 2007

Hachiro felt guilty, almost voyeuristic, long after he'd returned home the previous day and on into this morning. Even though Roarke had invited him to Leslie's party and he'd demurred, he had sneaked over anyway and hidden himself in the heavy foliage ringing the side lawn at the main house, and just watched for a while as Leslie celebrated her birthday. She had looked quite happy, accepting congratulations from her friends, her father's guests, and regular vacationers alike; opening birthday cards and gifts; playing with her children, at whom Hachiro had stared for a long time, wondering if, had things been different, he could have given her triplets; and basking in the obvious love of her husband. It had been this last that had really gotten to him. Watching Christian and Leslie together and seeing how clear, deep and open their love was had acted like a barbed knife in the chest.

That in itself annoyed him; he knew he shouldn't be feeling this way. There was no question about how much she loved her prince, and that there was no way on earth she would look at him as she did Christian. Yet it hurt to see it, all the same. Was he really such a glutton for punishment that he'd go on wishing he could have won her heart, even after all these years of knowing she disliked him, even in the face of her obvious adoration for her husband? He didn't like the answer he was getting, and as he trudged along a well-worn back path that his sister and Leslie's other friends had used for years to get to the main house from their neighborhoods, he found himself wishing that Roarke had some sort of magical cure for his unrequited love for Leslie.

It was still so early that Roarke and Leslie weren't yet back from seeing their guests off at the plane dock, so he let himself into the main house and took a seat in the study. Only then did he hear voices upstairs and begin to feel like an intruder: he recognized the alto-baritone of Christian's voice and the occasional chirp of a small child responding. He couldn't make out words, but just the voices were enough to make him feel as though he were spying on someone else's life.

Then footsteps sounded overhead, and before Hachiro could decide what to do, Christian came down the stairs. The prince stopped halfway down when he saw Hachiro, then smiled faintly and descended the remaining steps a little more slowly. "Good morning," he offered.

"Hello, Your Highness," Hachiro replied, wondering whether he should get up and bow—wasn't that what you did with royalty around? But Christian didn't say anything, just came over to the desk and paused there to study him while he squirmed.

All of a sudden the prince laughed. "I make you nervous, don't I?"

A deep flush crawled up Hachiro's neck and filled his face. "Yeah," he mumbled.

Christian made a noncommittal noise and settled in the other chair, though he didn't sit back. "Well, you wouldn't be the only one; I seem to have that effect on people. Thank fate you didn't stand up and bow." He didn't seem to register Hachiro's surprised stare. "So I understand you have an appointment with my wife."

Hachiro thought there was something faintly possessive about the way Christian had said those last two words, and had to tamp down a surge of jealousy. "Yeah, I thought this'd be a good time to do that."

Christian nodded. "She knows about it," he assured him. "Mr. Roarke spoke with her yesterday morning, and she'll talk to you, don't worry. They'll be back within fifteen minutes or so, I think. If you'd excuse me, I was actually on my way to the kitchen."

"Oh sure, no problem, Your Highness," Hachiro said, and Christian smiled again and arose fluidly. Hachiro watched him leave, noting the prince's physique, particularly the fact that Christian lacked the paunch Hachiro had developed. _It's probably against the law for royalty to get fat because they have to look good in the pictures the paparazzi are always taking of them,_ he thought, only half facetiously. He wondered if the prince's title had been the big attraction for Leslie, and whether he had the nerve to ask about it.

Christian had gone through the room and back upstairs again, toting bottles of water that Hachiro presumed were for the triplets, before Roarke and Leslie returned. They both looked surprised to see Hachiro there; he shot to his feet the instant he saw Leslie, whose startled stare made his stomach quake.

"Good morning, Hachiro," Roarke said, stepping into the study with Leslie a few paces behind, a wary look on her face. "You're quite eager to speak with my daughter, I see. There's no reason you can't have your talk now, since we have completed the weekend's usual duties and I have paperwork to occupy me."

Hachiro had barely glanced at him this whole time; he couldn't stop staring at Leslie and wishing her expression were less off-putting. "I hope you don't mind, Leslie," he said, then checked himself and corrected awkwardly, "Your Highness."

That made Leslie roll her eyes and actually smile, to Hachiro's hopeful surprise. "For Pete's sake, Hachiro, am I that bad? Even you don't have to refer to me that way." She let out a soft sigh and seemed to brace herself. "Well, how about we take a walk along the lane out here? That should be a good place to talk."

"Great," Hachiro agreed and followed her out the door. Their silence held till they had reached the fountain, where Leslie paused and turned to regard him, taking in his appearance from head to toe and making him blush vividly again. She grinned.

"If you're feeling nervous because of the princess thing, don't bother. Even I'm not used to the title, and Christian's been my husband for more than six years now. Nobody bothers with it when we're here at home."

"Ah, well." Hachiro shrugged. "I wasn't really thinking about that. I, uh, well, I was just figuring, I probably look like I've really let myself go over the years."

Her smile faded and she looked away, as if embarrassed. "I wouldn't put it that way."

"I would," he said, and her head swung back around. "You don't have to be delicate for my sake. Not that you ever were."

This time it was Leslie who turned red, and she diverted her gaze to the fountain, where there were still coins from all over the world lying in the bottom. "Well," she murmured, and the silence fell again, while they both tried to think of something to say.

The questions Hachiro wanted to ask her, though, would no longer be held back, and he decided he might as well get on with it before he chickened out and wasted this chance—especially since Leslie seemed amenable for a change, if on her guard. The biggest one popped out first, as if his mouth had a mind of its own. "How come you hate me so much?"


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § - May 7, 2007

Leslie stared at him, greatly startled by the question, even though she knew he'd asked it of Roarke the day before. She just hadn't thought it would be the first one he'd ask her, now. Her face overheated again and she wondered if they were going to make each other blush the entire time they talked. "I don't hate you," she said, knowing perfectly well it was a lame response and that he probably wouldn't believe it anyway.

"I don't know, that isn't how it came across to me," said Hachiro, and she detected a plaintive undertone in his voice. It made her uncomfortable and she forced herself to stand still. "I've heard back, mostly from Michiko. I know you and I haven't really gotten along, but…well, seems to me I bring out the worst in you."

_Boy, do I feel stupid._ Leslie, abandoning the idea of walking, settled down on the edge of the fountain, reminded out of nowhere of the first day she had been on the island so many years ago, wondering what her future held in store. She had probably sat in almost this exact spot, and the view from here brought back the memory in force. "I suppose you do," she admitted reluctantly. "But—well, it's not that I hate you, really. It's just that…some of the things you've done, the decisions you've made, have been…" She groped for the word she wanted, then abandoned the sentence, unable to find anything suitable.

"Stupid," said Hachiro, startling her into staring directly at him. Every time she looked at him, she was hit anew by the vast difference between his current appearance and her memories of how he'd looked in his teens and that last time she'd seen him when he tried to talk her into reciprocating his emotions. He was the same height, but the full head of black hair had all but vanished, and what remained was graying with enthusiasm. He had gained some weight, the majority of it in the overhanging gut that made him look about six months pregnant (this thought she carefully kept to herself, feeling uncharitable for even allowing it entrance into her mind). His voice sounded the same, though, and when he spoke again she made a point of concentrating on his face. "I've done some stupid things in my day, and believe me, I know it."

She made a neutral noise, encouraging him to continue, and he did. "I spent a long time neglecting my responsibilities, especially to Myeko and Alexander and Noelle. I kind of ignored my family for years. I…uh…I've been…" His hesitation lasted so long that she thought he wasn't going to bother completing the thought, till he muttered, "Fantasizing. About you, if you want to know the ugly truth."

She had planned to ask him to sit beside her, but this last statement made her so uneasy that she decided to let him stand. He gazed across the lane with his hands shoved into the pockets of his Bermuda shorts, his face a mask of gloom and resignation, while she tried to think of some response. Unable to come up with much, she decided to ask her own big question. "Then why did you treat me the way you did, back in high school, if you really felt like that about me all this time?"

"How else was I gonna make you notice me?" Hachiro's voice was full of self-mockery, and Leslie bit her lip, still unable to understand this rationale, but figuring he wouldn't be able to explain it—at least, not to her satisfaction. Yet she persisted.

"You must have known that was just going to make me dislike you more and more," she protested. "It's pretty obvious that treating someone like dirt won't exactly sweeten their opinion of you."

Hachiro threw his hands in the air in defeat. "I was a brainless teenage boy whose hormones were dictating every move I made. That's all I know to tell you. I can't explain it. I wish I could, but I honestly don't know."

Leslie laughed, shaking her head, surprising herself as much as him. "Well, I guess it makes sense, in a bizarre way." He grinned, and for just a few seconds they shared a tentative levity, before another question occurred to her. "I've wondered for ages. What was it that drew you to me in the first place?"

"Well, I thought you looked kinda lost in that newspaper picture I saw of you, the first week you were here. I guess you could say it struck a chord with me. I, uh, I always used to feel sort of lost within my own family." He glanced at her, finally lowering himself to perch with ill ease on the edge of the fountain, leaving about five feet of space between them. "I know, it sounds really dumb. It wasn't remotely like what you went through. But see, it's the way I was raised. This whole traditional Japanese thing. My brother knew exactly what his duty was within the family, as the firstborn. My sisters knew they all had certain expectations they were supposed to live up to…"

Leslie nodded. "I know about that," she said. "Michiko explained it once to Christian and me. I never really understood about it till she told us."

"Did she?" Hachiro relaxed, shifting on the fountain's edge to face her a little more fully. "That saves me having to spell it all out, so you might understand. I got more leeway because I was neither the firstborn nor the only boy. Trouble with me is, I took too much advantage of that leeway. I went a little wild, I guess, at least for a traditionally raised Japanese boy, and I'm sure my parents didn't always know what to do with me." He sighed and looked into the water. "Now that I look back, maybe if I'd had something I had to live up to the way the others did, I wouldn't have been so careless and irresponsible."

"Mmmm," murmured Leslie. "I guess there's such a thing as too much freedom."

Hachiro nodded. "Even when you think you want it, you really don't. I was sure as all get-out that freedom was exactly what I wanted, and I was smug about it. Gave me kind of an ego, so that I thought I could get anything I wanted. Then I asked you out and you said no, and it blew my mind." He looked at her again, and she read pure bafflement in his eyes. "How come you turned me down?"

Leslie smiled and let her gaze fall onto the dirt lane, seeing in her mind's eye the day Hachiro had cornered her at her stubborn locker and asked her out. "I felt obligated," she said. "I guess, for at least the first two or three years I lived here, I felt as though I were here on sufferance. I knew Father had promised my mother he'd take care of me after she and my sisters died, but I didn't sense an especially warm welcome from him. He as much as said that if Mom's fantasy hadn't turned out the way it did, he'd have refused her request. I took it pretty personally; I felt like a nuisance that he'd suddenly gotten stuck with, and I must have subconsciously decided to try to lessen the burden on him as much as I could." She met Hachiro's fascinated gaze. "I really wanted to help Father in his business, but I thought at the same time that even that was a privilege I had to earn—which it was, because I started out as a lowly go-fer." The memories of those first few weeks flooded her mind and she let out a laugh. "Boy, let me tell you, I screwed up all over the place."

Hachiro laughed too. "No kidding, why?"

"I was under a lot of emotional stress. I'd been afraid I wouldn't make friends; your sister and the other girls put paid to that quick enough, but I still sensed a certain distance from Father, and on top of that, I was hopelessly in awe of him and a little scared of him too. Plus, of course, I missed Mom and Kristy and Kelly—my sisters. I wanted to do well in school, and I was groping academically for about two weeks or so when Father first enrolled me. I ended up playing a little catch-up because my eighth-grade class in California was a bit behind the one I joined here. So I had all that going on, plus I had almost no social skills, thanks to my birth father and his peculiarities. And I wasn't even fourteen yet and hadn't really started thinking much about boys."

Hachiro reared back a little. "Whoa." His face reddened again, though not as luridly as before. "So I guess when I barreled up to you that day and asked you out, it kind of overwhelmed you."

"You could say that," Leslie agreed, peering at him. "Why did you take it so badly when I turned you down? It was like you held a permanent grudge against me."

"That sense of entitlement." He snorted at himself. "Like you said, I had too much freedom. I loved being able to do whatever I wanted, with no restrictions. My mother's always been soft-spoken and never raised her voice at any of us, even when we were being our most aggravating. I looked at her as a pushover, and took advantage of that too. I didn't really have to do much of anything I didn't want, except for school. So when you said you were planning to spend the weekend working for Mr. Roarke and Tattoo, I couldn't believe you'd rather work than hang out at the beach. Made no sense at all to me."

Leslie grinned. "I see. Maybe I sensed that. I mean, I knew you were totally bewildered that I'd rather work than play, but like I said, I felt that I needed to start repaying Father for being willing, or at least having agreed, to take care of me. So tell me…were you responsible for the fact that I never got asked out by another guy for the rest of my days in school? Because I wasn't."

"Geez, c'mon, that's impossible. Yeah, okay, I remember complaining about what a drudge you'd turned out to be—wanting to work and not have your weekends off. I told some of my pals at the time, and they had more or less the same mindset, that working was something only losers did. But I didn't go around deliberately telling every guy in school that you didn't date." He eyed her for a moment, then said with an insight that surprised her, "I think it's because everybody knew you were Mr. Roarke's ward, and Mr. Roarke being who he is, that probably kind of intimidated them."

Leslie pondered that and smiled wryly. "Y'know, come to think of it, you might be right. That never occurred to me for some reason."

They chuckled, then fell quiet again, their questions on that front answered to their mutual satisfaction. Then Leslie, letting her thoughts trundle on, frowned a little. "So okay, we've established all that. You knew I couldn't stand you, and yet…well, from everything I've ever heard, you still wanted to be my boyfriend or something."

"I was in love with you, Leslie," Hachiro broke in, stilling her and meeting her wide eyes with a solemn self-deprecation. "And in spite of everything, including my own efforts to kill off the emotion, I still am, to at least some extent. Don't get all upset," he said quickly, raising both hands as he saw her begin to shrink involuntarily away from him. "I know you don't feel the same way and you never did. You made that more than clear that one time after I divorced Myeko." They both reddened again with the memory. "But it still didn't kill off the feeling. I really don't know why, and it'd probably take a shrink to figure it out, which I'm not interested in doing right now. But I figure we might as well call it what it is. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"It is?" she asked blankly.

Hachiro nodded. "My wife, Lani? She jumped all over my case last Friday, when Tom—you know, Tommy Ichino—sent me home and told me flat out that I needed to devote the proper amount of time to grieving my father's death. She started digging, and the whole sordid story came out. At which point she handed me an ultimatum. I had to come here and do something about those ongoing emotions once and for all, or else I might just as well not go back to her and our kids." His gaze was solemn. "And believe me, Leslie, that scared me."

She blew out a breath. "Well, that's a good sign," she said. "It shows that Lani really means something to you, and she's not just a stand-in for me."

She watched Hachiro freeze as he turned this over, and a slow smile lit his somewhat jowly features. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, that's right, isn't it?" Then he looked at her and the light in his eyes guttered. "But how can I feel like that about her and then feel the way I do about you?"

Leslie shrugged. "Lots of people love two at the same time. I'm not going to ask you about Myeko. That's just between you and her. But why do you still feel this way about me? You know I'm married, and I'm very much in love with Christian and always will be. So, knowing that, why can't you concentrate everything you have on Lani?"

Hachiro said nothing, his face blank, but Leslie could see the struggle going on in his head for the answer. Her mind began to probe again, going over what they'd already said, and his explanations for his actions in high school came back to her. _That sense of entitlement, he said. Entitlement…maybe he…_ "I think you want me because I'd made myself unattainable," she said without thinking. "Because you caused me to hate you in high school for the way you treated me, and then I got married to Teppo and left here, and then you got engaged to Myeko…I wasn't available to you. And then I turned you down when you wanted Father to make me fall for you." She came to with a start when she heard Hachiro draw in a sharp breath beside her. He looked stricken, but she knew she couldn't stop now. "And because we're both married now, I'm still unattainable. I've always been unattainable to you in one way or another, and your feelings persist because you still want what you can't have."

He wanted to deny it; there was no mistaking the flame of indignation that exploded into life, in his eyes and in his reddening face. She watched him grapple with her words, fighting them, then gradually coming to terms with them as their truth sank in. She knew when it did; he sagged where he sat, making his gut stick out more. He wrapped his arms around it as though for protection, and sighed, "Yeah, I think you're right. The question is, how do I stop wanting what I can't have?"

Leslie shook her head. "I don't know. I would've said that distance, lack of proximity, would do the trick. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. But you've been doing that, haven't you?" It hit her then. "Omigod…th-_that's_ why you never come back here!"

Hachiro's gaze was sad. "Yep, that's the real reason. I know how close you and Michiko are. I know she's not here all that much either, just during the summer, but that's usually when I take my vacation too, in August. I could've brought Lani and the boys here then, except…I just…I didn't want to see you, even accidentally. I was really trying to get over you, Leslie. I knew it wasn't fair to Lani, and I didn't want to lose her. I still don't. And with the way you hated me, and remembering the last time we saw each other…"

"I wouldn't have been…" Leslie began to protest, but her voice died, even as both she and Hachiro understood the truth.

"Yeah, I think you would have," he said gently. "You'd have been cold at the very least, rude at the most. You'd have put me in my place, and I'd have deserved it, even though it would've made me miserable. Not necessarily because I knew you'd never love me. I figured that out years ago, after that put-down you handed me between my divorce and your meeting Prince Christian. I think I…" He paused a moment, frowning, as if puzzling the best way to phrase it. "It's just that I…I thought I blew it so badly that I couldn't even be friends with you." She opened her mouth, and he shook his head, cutting her off before she could speak. "To be totally honest, I _knew_ I couldn't be friends with you. You said so that time."

Leslie stared at him. "I did? When?"

"That last meeting we had. You put it in so many words, and it hit me so hard that I never forgot exactly what you said. You told me I managed to destroy whatever chance I might have had of being anything more than friends, and that even that was questionable."

"Oh." Now that he'd said it, her own words came back to her, perhaps not precisely as she'd spoken them, but she did remember saying something to that effect. She cleared her throat and looked at him with some shame. "I was really hard on you, I guess."

"You were only trying to make me face up to what I owed Myeko and Alexander and Noelle," Hachiro said, shrugging. "I just wasn't ready to pay attention at the time. All I could hear was that I screwed up so much, I didn't even get to be friends with you. So I overreacted and got off the island in one almighty hurry. I was humiliated, to be honest with you. I felt like the lowest thing that was ever born."

She grinned and offered, "But you did leave Myeko the support check before you went. I still remember how shocked she was when she found it."

"Yeah? Can't say I'm surprised. In a way it was a relief when she got remarried, since we had a proviso in our divorce decree that if she remarried, I could stop sending support. I'd met Lani by then and we both wanted a big family."

"Both of you? I guess you got what you wanted," Leslie said lightly.

"Did we ever," he agreed, rolling his eyes and making her laugh. "We'd talked about it shortly before we got married, and we agreed that we'd go for three boys and three girls. So she had Liam and Cody and Zachary, boom-boom-boom, and we expected the next one to be a girl, but we got Griffen instead. And then Tyler came after him, and we had five boys all of a sudden, on top of her two from her first marriage. I knew Noelle was feeling surrounded and I couldn't blame her when she quit coming to visit. By the time Lani got pregnant after Tyler, we were resigned to getting boy after boy after boy. She was so relieved when we found out we were having Olivia, I agreed when she begged me to stop having kids."

Leslie laughed. "Well, either Olivia will feel as surrounded as Noelle always said she did, or else she'll be the family princess, and she'll never have a date till she goes to college because her older brothers'll beat the tar out of any boy who dares to even look at her."

Hachiro laughed too. "That's about what we figured. She's already pretty spoiled and cosseted as it is. Aaron—that's Lani's oldest—got her this goofy little outfit last Christmas that said PAMPERED PRINCESS on the front. We just roared."

They let their chuckles wind down before Hachiro heaved yet another sigh and planted both palms on his thighs. "So tell me about yours."

"My kids?" Leslie said in surprise, and he nodded. "Well, you probably already know all about them, there wouldn't be much to tell."

"Not really. Oh, heck, I know you've got triplets and all, but I don't know much else. I suppose Michiko figured it wasn't my business or something."

Leslie grinned and shook her head. "She stands up for me a lot more than I think she should. Well, we have two girls, Susanna and Karina, and a boy, Tobias. They'll be three next month. Thank heavens, Karina's fully toilet-trained, and Susanna's not too far behind her. Tobias struggles with it a bit, but he's mastering it. They look much more like Christian than me, thankfully. Tobias has my eyes, but that's about it."

"Three next month?" Hachiro asked, and she nodded. "That makes them about six months older than Tyler." He pulled in a breath and studied her with some apprehension. "I, uh…I thought…" He stopped, then shook his head and looked away. "Naaah, never mind, I don't think it'd work."

"You don't think what would work?" she prompted, curious.

"You told me we'd never be friends," Hachiro said candidly. "I don't see any reason to assume things could be different."

"I…I'd…" Leslie stuttered, caught herself and stared across the lane, embarrassed. "I was too hard on you back then. We were younger and we still had a lot to learn, both you and me. And one thing I needed to learn—more than once—was how to forgive, to let bygones be bygones." She watched herself twisting her wedding and engagement rings on her finger, feeling foolish and at fault, and a lot of other things she couldn't put a name to. "You think a friendship is out of the question, and as late as this morning I'd have said the same thing…but our talk has made me see some things. I think we could be friends." The last six words came out in a slow, soft, tentative voice; she was aware of him leaning over in order to hear her better.

"Huh," she heard him say, and the derisive tone of his voice made her stare at him. "I still have more than just platonic feelings for you, you know. You sure you want to risk it?"

Leslie regarded him, realizing the derision was self-directed, and asked after a minute or two, "Do you really think we'd have been compatible as more than friends?"

"How do you mean?" he wanted to know.

"I work for my father," she reminded him. "You didn't like the idea of Myeko getting a job. How would it have been any different with me?"

"You'd have stopped working when you had kids. Isn't that what you did?"

"For about three months, yes. But then I went back. I mean, if I'd had any job other than the one I do, I probably would've remained a stay-at-home mom and been very happy about it. Camille's always been like that—I'm surprised you and she didn't hook up." She snickered when Hachiro rolled his eyes.

"Camille was always too abrasive for me. When we were little kids, she was a real tomboy, did you know that? She'd play with the girls, but she never touched a doll, and if there were boys around, she'd play with them instead. And she fought like any boy, too. Get her mad, she'd throw fists all over the place, and nobody was safe then. She was never my type." He caught her amused gaze. "What'd Prince Christian say when you decided you wanted to go back to work?"

"Oh, he knew I was going back. He understood that I really love working with Father, and that it would drive me crazy not to do it. He knew, because he loves tinkering with computers probably as much as I love helping Father grant fantasies. We were able to work things out so that I could still care for the babies as much as possible, and Father worked with us too. I was able to bring them to the main house, and we'd all sleep over in my old room during weekends. It went well."

"Special case. You're working for your father and everybody was willing to make compromises. Myeko wasn't. She wanted a full-time job with the paper, and who cared if she left her kids with strangers. That really bothered me."

"A lot of mothers want to get out of the house and have contact with other adults. They can't get all their stimulation from talking to the baby and watching scuzzy daytime talk shows and reading _Murder, She Wrote_ novels. As much as we moms love our babies and want the best for them, we have to take care of ourselves too—or else, if we break down, then what happens to the baby?"

"Fine, but does that mean they have to work?" Hachiro demanded, frustration rising. "Lani hasn't worked since Liam was born, and that was her choice. She got her adult stimulation from seeing friends regularly, and that was plenty for her. What's wrong with it?"

"I'm sure that's a great choice for lots of mothers, especially the ones who can afford not to go back to work in the first place, and for those whose jobs were crummy affairs that they don't miss once they quit. I could have afforded to stay home with the triplets, and if I'd had any other job, like I said, I would have. I'd have quit the casino or the restaurant or a hotel-maid job if that's what I was doing, and I'd have been glad about it. But I like this job. I _love_ this job. Other new mothers happen to like their jobs too, even if they can afford to stay home, and still others would love to quit, except they have to work to make sure their income covers their expenses. Everyone's different, Hachiro. Now I'll admit that I don't understand women who froth at the mouth to get back to their high-powered corporate careers after they've had a baby. Personally, I think it's stupid to value office politics and high-stress CEO decision-making over raising the child you elected to give birth to. But there are those women who thrive on that kind of lifestyle and go ape if they have to be out of the loop, for whatever reason."

"Yeah, yeah, I suppose so." He met her gaze in challenge. "So do you value your job more than you do your kids?"

"No," she said, ire unexpectedly rising, "I certainly do not. I love my job, but if I were forced to make a choice between my job and my children, I'd choose my children. Does that satisfy you? Not that it's any of your business."

Her glare stopped him from going any further, and they stared each other down for a long thirty seconds before Hachiro released a loud, close-mouthed sigh and crumpled in on himself in concession. "Okay, okay. I guess I see the point you were trying to make. We'd have really clashed on the job issue, wouldn't we?"

"Yup," Leslie agreed, smiling a little. "And that's just one example. Who knows how else we'd have found ourselves at odds?" She took in his stance; he had rested an elbow on one leg and had bowed his head, running his hand along its bald top. "We had too much contrary history between us, and we disagree on one major point—major enough that if we'd had a relationship, it could have inflicted some serious damage. It sure killed your marriage to Myeko. You're a little too old-fashioned for most women; you needed somebody like Lani who didn't put working as one of the highest priorities in her life."

Hachiro laughed. "I guess you got me pegged pretty good. So what you're really saying here is, give up this ridiculous daydream I've got about being more than friends with you, and settle for the olive branch you're trying to extend, and go back to Lani and appreciate her and my kids and my life more than I've been doing."

"Bingo," Leslie said, grinning. "Well put. So does that help at all?"

He regarded her seriously. "Look, I can't shut it off like a light switch. It's gonna take some time for me to completely refocus and stop having these useless feelings about you. But I've got a good start on it, and I think it'll be safe enough to bring the family to the island to see my mother and some of their other relatives who're here, and not have to worry about making a total jackass of myself if you and I happen to run into each other." They both laughed, and he arose and extended a hand. Leslie got up and shook with him. "Thanks for letting me clear the air and get my head on straight."

"Always happy to help," said Leslie. "Say hi to your mother for me, and take my greetings to Lani when you go home. I'd like to meet her sometime."

"This summer," Hachiro promised. "I'll bring the whole crowd here for a vacation, and you and Lani can get acquainted." He blew out his breath. "That is…if my mother doesn't sell the house by then. If she does, I don't know where the heck we're gonna stay, with so many of us to feed and shelter."

"Michiko didn't mention selling the house. Well, hey, there's plenty of time to discuss it. Maybe you can work something out, but you could suggest to your mother to keep the place for a while, at least long enough to let you bring everybody on vacation. I bet she'd love that. How well does she know your kids?"

"Probably not well enough, but I'm fixing that. Just wait till school lets out for the summer. My mother won't know what happened to her peace and quiet."

Leslie joined in his laugh, and again they shook hands. "I'm sure your mother'll be more than happy to give up her peace and quiet to have her grandchildren livening up the place again. Well, I gotta get home with my husband and kids. Take it easy, and see you around, huh?"

"Sure thing," he said, smiled, and then sauntered away down the lane. Leslie strolled back toward the main house, grinning when she heard Hachiro start whistling in the distance. She herself was amazed to realize how much better she felt. After all these years, who'd have thought she'd make a new friend out of an old enemy?

* * *

><p><em>More to come in July…and this won't be the last you hear of Hachiro and his brood!<em>


End file.
